<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Remember What I Told You In The Dark by Ohboythisisalot</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24725143">Remember What I Told You In The Dark</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ohboythisisalot/pseuds/Ohboythisisalot'>Ohboythisisalot</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Junebug [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Five Nights at Freddy's</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Also bc i don't have any friends i trust to let read this, Biting, Blowjobs, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, I'll add tags as i get there, I'm Bad At Tagging, June has been through some shit, Neck Kissing, PWP, Past Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Survivor Guilt, We don't see how michael is fucked up yet, Writing smut makes me sleepy :(, but wait theres more, i am full of shame, making fun of florida, no beta we die like men, posessiveness, realistic responses to trauma, thick thighs, unapologetically horny</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 01:56:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,079</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24725143</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ohboythisisalot/pseuds/Ohboythisisalot</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the second work in the Junebug series, and I'm writing this entirely out of order. Read at your own risk- I'm only posting for the validation needed to keep me writing.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Original Female Character/ Purple Guy, Original Female Character/ William Afton- mentioned, Original Female Character/Michael Afton</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Junebug [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1787698</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Remember What I Told You In The Dark</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>My name is June. I’m 16 years old, 17 in a month, and I’m dead. Not only am I dead, but hey, bonus, I died in a kids pizza place, you know the works, broken arcade games that cheat you outta your hard earned tickets, overpriced pizza that you just <em>know </em>has to have something out of date in it, though to be honest, I really don’t mind the animatronics that sing on stage. They’re well programmed, almost too lifelike, and I’ve always felt a kinship with them. A lot of the time I feel like I'm just around for other people's entertainment too. Thats probably just me being dramatic though. </p><p> </p><p> I was only here for my little sister’s sake, it was her birthday, and I owed it to the kid to spend some time with her. Not like I had anything better to do. We hung out until people started showing up, and of course, she ended up running off with her friends and I was left to fuck around on my own. Time passed, and I had run out of tokens and cursed out the claw machine when I heard a loud “Thunk” followed by inhuman screeching from behind a door labeled “Employees Only”.</p><p> </p><p>My section of the arcade was empty, and no employees were looking, so I tried the handle. Unlocked. With a quick glance back, I opened the door only to get yanked inside. I was pinned to the door by a very angry man, and all the signals in my head were screaming to get the fuck out.</p><p> </p><p>    “How’d you open the door?” he whisper yelled in my face. His breath wasn’t as bad as I expected. Cinnamon. I’m used to my mom yelling at me up close (I usually deserve it) and she always smells like diet soda aftertaste. Gross. I work up the courage to look away from where his hand still held my arm.</p><p> </p><p>   Making eye contact, I say, as calmly as possible while still trying to make myself look small and non-threatening- “it was unlocked. Heard a noise. Someone could have been hurt.” He wasn’t much older than me, 18, maybe very early 20’s. Disheveled, wild eyed, and definitely got an anger problem. His arm on the door was tense, like he'd be ready to snap if I wasn't careful. I peer over his shoulder to see a smaller, bear animatronic knocked over and twitching. “Oh shit, cool. She busted?”</p><p>   He follows my gaze, before looking back to me and stepping back, seeing as I’m not going anywhere. “Yeah. She’s a prototype. Should have been done already but whenever she tries to communicate with the other bots n the network, she freaks out. Whatever it is that they’re sharing is overwhelming her system. That’s what the noise was.”</p><p> </p><p>   “She’s awfully cute.” I say, mostly to myself. “Shame.” Her fur is a beautiful dark bronze, as opposed to the others’ smooth plastic, and her eyes glow a gorgeous hot pink. And her figure was real similar to mine, though she was shorter and almost cartoonishly pear shaped. Small and cute. It was honestly a little jarring to see her slumped over like a dead body. </p><p> </p><p>  “I agree. The owner said he wanted a fresh face. I normally just build his designs, but he let me make whatever I wanted, so I figured a cute bear cub would make a good addition.” He explains. </p><p> </p><p>“So you built all these? I actually really love your work- I mean, you can’t possibly get paid enough for how well these things move!” I gesture through the wall back to the general area of the stage. He cocks a grin, laughing a little. My heart does a funny little thing in my chest when he makes eye contact.</p><p> </p><p> “I don’t, I mean, yeah, I built them mostly myself, a little help from my dad, but I don't get paid enough either.  I love the work, though, and I know I’m good at it. How about you stay for a bit longer? We’re closing soon, and I’ve got a late shift. I can show you how they work, and tell you more about who she’s supposed to be. I’ll drive you home if you need it.” He gestures towards the bear on the floor, then reaches for my hand, squeezing it gently. I smile, nod, and text my mom to let her know I made a friend and might be out for a bit longer I don't get a response. “Sounds great.” His name is Michael. His friends call him Mike. The bear cub animatronic doesn’t have a name yet. She’s small and non-threatening, allowing her to walk around more freely and safely, with her purpose as a trustworthy and safe friend to kids who get lost or separated from their parents, and calming down kids who get hurt while alerting the employees to get first aid. Her programming should make her the most nimble and capable robot yet, and she’s to be introduced as Freddie’s little sister.</p><p> </p><p>He lets me watch him repair her while he explains it, her back open, laid out in the table. We talk for an hour or so after everyone is gone, sitting on the couch in the break room before he starts to get… comfortable. He was telling me how he got here, (his dad worked the same job at the original place and was friends with the owners) about his apartment(cheap but substantial), when he rested his hand on my inner thigh. I didn’t move his hand, but he knew I noticed it. He kept talking, lightly squeezing, tracing mindless designs into my skin with his fingertips. I mull it over for a moment of mentally saying “Fuck it. I’m young, and I’ll do what I want” before I cover his hand with mine and kiss him.</p><p> </p><p>He’s surprised at first, pulling back, before cocking that same stupid, cocky grin from before and kissing back. It’s almost tender at first, sweet and slow, before it turns heated, and he pulls me up into his lap with surprising ease, holding my hips down against the quickly growing tent in his pants. He pulls back to watch my face as he slides one hand under my skirt, exploring at first but then suddenly rubbing with purpose right at my..., making me lurch forward with a gasp and rock my hips against his and getting a downright amazing noise out of him. I take full advantage of this new position to mouth at his neck, licking and kissing and biting.</p><p> </p><p> I know I’m good with my mouth- I’ve been told it’s unfair. It’s gotten me what I want plenty of times. I knock it down to just eating a lot of suckers growing up. I can feel his dick twitch beneath me when I bite down, and he lets out the most amazing whine when I bite hard enough to hurt, bucking his hips and squeezing my thighs with bruising force. When I’ve detached myself from his neck and shoulders he’s panting. “What the fuck… how are you?” He barely breathes out. I just grin. I’ve already unzipped his pants while he was distracted. I’m not done yet. “Hold my hair back. You can move if you want, you can even push me down, but when I pat your legs you gotta stop whatever it is you’re doing and let me breathe.” He nods and holds my hair in the impromptu ponytail I pulled it into, and I don't give him the chance to catch his breath. It’s easy to lose myself in this. I’ve got him fucking my throat and holding me down and all I have to do is focus on my breathing and not throw up. When his hips start to stutter I push it down as far as possible and start forcing myself to swallow until he’s done, pulling off and planting sweet kisses along his length. I’m honestly surprised that I fit so much of it, admiring the size of it, still hard. Mike catches his breath and wipes the tears from my face with a swipe of his thumb, and then he laughs. “Seriously, what the fuck?” I smile up at him, still kneeling on the floor in front of him. “Did I do good?” I ask, feigning innocence. I’m not dumb. I know why he designed the bear cub like <em>that </em>.</p><p> He sputters. “F-fuck. Uh, yeah. Jesus christ- how old are you?” </p><p> </p><p>I grin. “Sixteen. Seventeen in June, just like my namesake. And no, I’m not very experienced actually. Still a virgin and everything.” </p><p> </p><p>“So you’re underage, a virgin, and suck dick like <em>that. </em>?” He huffs in disbelief. “You’re messing with me.” </p><p> </p><p>“I’m not lying. That's only my second time sucking dick.” It's true. “And in our state I’m legal for anyone under 26 as long as my parents don’t know and/or give a shit. And they don’t, so.” </p><p> </p><p>“God, so much of you is so wrong in the best way.” he flops backwards onto the couch and zips up his pants. I sit next to him and before I can panic about him being mad that I didn't tell him my age, he wraps an arm around me. “To be fair, I do look pretty young for my age. You knew what you were getting.” He’s quiet at that for a bit. Then he turns to me and says something that makes me laugh and makes my whole body warm.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m gonna be the one to take it. I wanna be the first.”</p><p>We’re caught off guard by Michael’s phone buzzing. An alarm, half ‘till midnight. He stands and pulls me to my feet. “We gotta get out of here before the night guard shows up. The bots get cranky around his shift after not having any kids to watch. Don’t wanna get in the way of that.” He seems on edge, so I don’t question it. We hadn’t really gone out into the restaurant yet, just that back room and the breakroom, and the dark made the place creepy in a strangely familiar way. It felt like being at school after hours while my mom worked late. She’s a teacher and spends a lot of extra time at the school. I would always hang out and have marathons of VHS tapes from the library. I have seen every single episode of Bill Nye and eaten a lot of fast food dinners thanks to those late nights. </p><p> </p><p>He drove us to his apartment and let me borrow a shirt to sleep in. It was a little big on me, just going past my butt. Actually, he gave me a pair of his boxers too, but I opted out of them while he was in the bathroom, laying back on the bed without them. He came out of the bathroom in pajama pants, making me laugh a little. “Together we’re a full set of pajamas!” I point out, before taking note of his chest. He had just the right amount of lean muscle under his skin to make me wanna drool. “I guess so, huh?” he chuckles. I pull him down to join me on the bed, and he settles himself right over me, looking at me in a way that makes me feel warm. That goddamn grin, making me feel weak. He kisses me, smiling into it, and I have to stop myself from wrapping my legs around his middle. He pulls back, then murmurs, “fuck, you’re hot.” His mouth drops to my neck, mimicking what I did for him earlier, and a hand reaches to massage and grab and grope my body. It’s almost surreal how he’s able to make my hips move of their own accord and those sweet noises come from my throat. He bites down on this perfect spot on my neck and leaves marks, smattering my neck and shoulders with purple blooms. He slinks his way down to level his face between my thighs and in a moment of insecurity I look away, closing my legs, only to be brought right back by his sudden attention on the sensitive skin there, grazing it with his teeth and leaving marks where only we’d see. His mouth travels just to… I want it so bad and it feels like the natural direction, but I just can’t. I have to stop him. <em>Something is wrong I have to stop him.</em></p><p> </p><p>“Stop!” I say it just a little too harshly, pushing his face away from my core. I wince at his disappointed face and all of a sudden, I’m crying. He’s back up and at my side in no time at all. “What’s wrong?”</p><p> </p><p>His voice is too soft, its painful. I try and respond, but nothing comes out but a squeak, so I just shrug, shake my head, and held my hands up in defeat before dropping them back down. I blow my nose on a tissue from the nightstand. “Can I hug you?” He asks, so tender and thoughtful. He remembered me mentioning that I sometimes needed space and didn’t like to be touched when upset, even when it’s well-intentioned. A new surge of tears passes through. I nod, a yes and lean into him. He holds me for a minute while I just cry and try and remember to breathe, and when I finally stop shaking, and I’ve blown my nose for the last time, he holds my chin up ever so gently, and tells me I’m beautiful. That my eyes look so much bigger after I’ve cried, and my face flushed and in gentle peace after such a surprising and violent storm. He says that last part with a twist of humor in his voice, and I laugh. He assures me I was plenty ugly (rude) while I was crying, he’s not that kind of freak, but that afterwards when he was able to be there and make it right, seeing me smile with that same tear-streaked face is, as the kids call it, effervescent. In both terms. Precious and otherworldly, and made his chest feel almost bubbly. Or it was just the soda from the breakroom you shared. That made you laugh again.</p><p> </p><p>“I did really want it; I don’t know why I just couldn’t. Maybe there’s something wrong with me.” I sigh, quietly. He kisses my forehead. “I wouldn’t worry about it. I’ll take care of you. And, whenever you think you’re ready we can try again. You’ll have a hard time scaring me off, especially after your little stunt in the breakroom earlier.”</p><p> </p><p>It’s reassuring to hear. “I think maybe we should try again soon- but right now I just wanna cuddle and go to sleep, and for you to grab my butt a little.”</p><p> </p><p>“No complaints here,” he laughs, settling into big spoon. “You’ve got a cute butt”</p><p>“Thank you. And not just for the butt comment, but for listening too."</p><p> </p><p>         “Of course.” He says, grabbing my butt. “Goodnight. June.”</p><p> </p><p>I wake up feeling sweaty. Michael hasn’t moved a bit, and his grip is iron when I try to peel his arm off me to sit up. I huff and twist under the weight of his arm, to no avail. He pulls me even closer somehow, and his dick pokes into the back of my thigh. I hear him murmur in his sleep, and what he says is chilling enough to make me forget the sticky sweat coating my skin.</p><p> </p><p>         It would be erotic, if his words and voice didn’t feel so strangely, sickeningly familiar.</p><p> </p><p>         <em>“Only I can see you… nobody can know… mine forever…”  </em></p><p> </p><p>I shudder, tense, and Michael wakes up with a low rumble in the back of his throat. He rests his face at the junction of my throat and neck, pressing his lower half against mine firmly. I can’t help but whimper, and I can feel him grin against my skin. A moment passes, and now I have to pee. “Michael?” I say gently. “Michael, I have to get up. I need to pee.” I speak a little louder. Nothing. <em>Great</em>. Eventually I feel him relax, but again, he pulls me closer. With a sigh and a new sense of urgency, I resort to elbowing him in the ribs, making him cough and sputter in confusion as I scramble out of bed. From the bathroom, I tell him, “I had no choice, you wouldn’t wake up or let me go- Sleeping you really didn’t want me to get up.” I could feel his frown from the other room. The water from the sink was freezing. I finish washing my hands as fast as possible. “Awake me is glad you woke him up to let you go pee, but is still sad you aren’t back yet.” I laugh and crawl back into bed with him.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t ever talk like that again. It’s creepy. What sort of dream were you having anyways? You were talking in your sleep.” I ask, teasingly. He tenses up. Lot of tensing in the past five or so minutes. Our butts are gonna be so buff. <br/><br/>         “I don’t remember.” I know he’s lying, but I brush it off. He stuck around through my baggage. I can handle clingy.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The next morning he drops me off at home before going to work. He texts me off an on during breaks, simple stuff, just the usual “I miss you” followed by hearts and crying emoticons.</p><p> </p><p>I help my mom with moving her classroom that afternoon, carrying boxes and helping move furniture to a bigger room now that she has more students. The next day my muscles are sore and I’ve slept in, with just enough time to get dressed and visit Michael on his lunch break. He asked me to come in under the excuse that Bonnie’s audio was out of sync with his motions, and he wanted me to help, but immediately admitted after some light teasing that yes, it was actually just because he missed me.</p><p> </p><p>I sit on a table and watch Bonnie’s mouth moving with his lines as Michael fixes something in the back of his head, telling him, “Too fast,” and “Too slow,” until the motion and audio line up perfectly. Michael is quiet while he locks the timing settings in, and I kick my legs in momentary boredom, looking around the room. I’m reading a poster when I’m surprised by Michael’s form looming right in front of me, still taller despite my seat, and radiating warmth in stark contrast to the cold metal of the table. He takes my face in one hand, leaning in to kiss me, when the door opens.</p><p> </p><p>“Dad? What are you doing here, I thought you were still on the ru- I mean, your <em>vacation</em> to Florida.” Michael shoots upright, just as surprised as I am. Who in their right mind would willingly vacation in Florida? I almost laugh, until my eyes adjust to the light change coming from the doorway and I recognize him. A surge of painful, long repressed memories come rushing back, and I am frozen in place.</p><p> </p><p>“I managed to shake off my demons a little early. Figured it was about time to come back and see my son. My, you’ve grown.” William turns to me, and his neutral grin is swapped for a much more mischievous one. My stomach twists. “Ah,” he takes a stride towards me, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “Like father, like son. I see you’ve got excellent taste as well.”</p><p> </p><p>I can’t breathe. I can’t speak. Michael looks confused, facing his dad questioningly, waiting for an explanation or follow up. He provides. “Me and June got to know each other very well, when, what, two, maybe nine years ago?” In fact, she’s the reason I had to take such a long, uh, vacation.” He lifts my chin and inspects my neck, admiringly. “Amazing that you still look so pretty covered in bruises…”</p><p> </p><p>Suddenly, my fear was replaced with anger. I regained my speech and mobility, lurching away from his touch. “You killed them, and I caught you. I heard a loud noise, and when I opened the door and saw my friends on the floor, you didn’t have enough room to get rid of me like you did them. So you kept me alive, but not before...” I swallow hard, “making sure I couldn’t tattle.”</p><p> </p><p>Even when I finally forgot, I could still remember in feelings. Seeing his face again made the rest clear again. I was six and three-quarters, right before we had moved states the first time. I was having my birthday party early, and when I went to the bathroom to wash up, all of my friends were gone. I had just gotten in trouble for tattling on the boys for fighting, so my mom refused to listen to me when I tried to tell her they were gone. I wandered on my own for a bit, a cheap plastic cup full of tokens in my hand, before a claw machine caught my eye- inside were stuffed animals that I now recognized as cheap and in impossible positions for the claw to be able to grab, but back then all I wanted was that dumb bear plush with uneven eyes.</p><p> </p><p> I was about halfway through my cup of tokens when I heard a crashing and slew of curses from the door behind me. I dumped my remaining tokens in the pocket of my overalls and ran to get some ice, thinking it sounded just like when my momma got hurt, bringing it back with me to open the door. I remember the sound of plastic hitting the ground and ice shattering when I saw them, doubled over and lifeless. When I saw <em>him</em> cutting the cartilage away from their bones to force their already tiny bodies to fit, the anger I felt at myself for not being able to run when he pinned me against the door, bruising grip on one arm, staining the skin with sticky red blood, the other hand holding a knife at my throat.</p><p> </p><p>Those crazed eyes were bleached of all empathy as his mind raced to find a solution to his discovery. The sickly sweet of his voice when he found his plan, locking the door and making me watch him finish off my friends, having me help him clean, making me think I’m off the hook, before undoing his zipper and further destroying my resolve. My tiny throat was no match, and it didn’t take long until my voice was too raw to speak or make any noise. It never healed right, and my voice is still soft and too-quiet. I remember why I am so afraid of being touched there, why I’m so afraid of even just saying it. He had taken everything from me- and I didn’t even have the voice to tell anyone. He told me that if I spoke up I would be a tattle, and nobody likes a tattle. How would I get new friends that way? And if that because I helped clean up, I would go to jail too. Now I was all his, and only his, and I would be forever. He snuck me out to his car and to a musty old apartment where he kept me. It took a month of this abuse before they found me- originally writing me off to the same fate as the others.</p><p> </p><p>He is the worst breed of man. And worst of all, I see so much of him in Michael, so much of him that I like about Michael, it makes me sick. Speaking of which, I had forgotten Michael was right there beside me until he forced himself between me and William. “Don’t fucking touch her.”</p><p>William scoffs, more of a laugh than anything else. “We both know you’re no better. You can’t keep suppressing those thoughts, it’s not your nature. Believe me, I tried. I promised your mother I’d suppress it, and look right here. I am so much better at hiding it than you, and the evidence of my proudest failure is sitting pretty right in front of me.”</p><p> </p><p>Michael doesn’t speak, but doesn’t weaken his position either.</p><p> </p><p>William seems… disappointed. “You were always my favorite Mikey,” He places his hand on Michaels shoulder. “But we both know I can’t afford to keep her alive now.”</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'll have the next chapter within a few days, It's already halfway done- but writing porn makes me sleepy for whatever reason, so I had to take a break.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>